The evening sky looked clear and peaceful as I pushed the powder snow in the driveway, occasionally just leaning on the shovel to make sure I was not doing anything too strenuous. A heavy mist clouded around the tiny crescent moon off in the northwest sky. About three inches of snow accumulated, which I would normally just drive through, but the prediction for the next day was at least another two or more inches and that would be harder to just push through.
Three small deer moved cautiously along the trees between the house next door and the one on the corner. I had put the tall metal markers indicating the ends of the drive apron which I thought was supposed to alert the snow plow drivers not to fill up the aprons with the snow and ice they are charging forward, but that did not prevent the usual clog of slush, snow and ice from the day’s plowing.
A car stopped and a man got out and asked if he could finish the job for me. I had deliberately gone outside after dark so as not to attract the attention of anyone who might feel obligated to help out, but after a minute or so, I accepted his offer and asked his name. He asked mine and when I told him he asked if it would be okay if he called me Rosie. I laughed saying some of my closest friends do. He then said I should go back into the house to stay warm and he finished the job and left the shovel on the porch. Sometimes we have to let people help us so they can earn the grace of doing a good deed.
Anxious to begin my next read, I opened Frank Delaney’s Ireland before going to bed last night. After listening to the author speaking about the Easter Rebellion of 1916 in a talk at the library last spring I got the gist of the history lesson ahead of me. History was far from a favorite subject in school for me so it was a most pleasant surprise to find in the first twelve pages of this novel, that Mr. Delaney is really a master storyteller.
It is with a tinge of trepidation that I have kept an ear tuned to my refrigerator for the last couple of months. Usually the loudest appliance in the house roaring into wakefulness after a sleep spell, it sounded much quieter lately, so I looked into the freezer which is cluttered and well lit up. Okay, it does seem that there is not the usual gust of cold air whenever I open the big white door. Hmmm, this does not bode well. When I put my hand into a bag of radishes to pull out a couple, instead I felt some cold gooey stuff which prompted a very quick withdrawal of my hand and I looked at the other contents. Nothing bad yet, and I have made an effort not to just open it to study the contents, but rather to decide in advance what I wanted to take out and quickly grab as many of those items as I could at one time. The same in reverse for returning things to their shelves. Oh my, oh my! To get any new purchase into the kitchen will require clearing out the main hall from the front door which now houses two book cases each packed tightly, a small bench by the door to the garage and a little stand cluttered with assorted boots. It’s tiring just to think about the task, but I fear I shall have to roll up my shirt sleeves and get busy clearing out the path and then start shopping. I think I’ll start by taking my collection of decorative magnets off the fridge.